Something for the Weekend
by Rambling Scribe
Summary: Harry and Ruth fluffiness, not to be taken too seriously. “Are you going hide in the shrubbery all evening Ruth?”
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Spooks belongs to Kudos and the BBC. I'm just letting them have some fun between series…**

**A/N – This is just a bit of fluffy fun set in a fluffy AU – enjoy.**

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**Ruth spotted the MI6 officer who had tried to chat her up earlier heading in her direction. Deliberately ignoring his attempts to catch her eye, she moved towards the terrace. It was a relief to get outside, although the night air was only marginally cooler. A pergola provided some privacy and took her out of the direct sightline of the ballroom. She settled herself onto the small bench that was tucked away in the honeysuckle-scented darkness and waited for her eyes to become accustomed to the night.

A slight movement further along the terrace caught her attention. It was Harry; he was leaning back against the balustrade, one hand holding his phone to his ear and the other tugging at his collar.

She stayed in the shadows and watched him. For Ruth, one of the few highlights of attending official functions was the opportunity to admire Harry in his formal evening wear. And at this precise moment he was looking particularly good, having finally undone his tie and opened the neck of his shirt.

He started to walk towards the other end of the terrace so she craned forward to watch him. When he abruptly turned around, she was forced to duck back out of sight. She sat, heart pounding, and prayed he hadn't seen her.

"Are you going hide in the shrubbery all evening Ruth?"

The heat rose in her face and she was glad of the darkness to mask her embarrassment.

"I'm not hiding," she lied, unconvincingly. "And this isn't really shrubbery."

"All right then." He sat down next to her. "Are you going to spend the rest of the evening amongst the _Lonicera Japonica_, trying to avoid being seen?"

"I was just getting some fresh air. The ballroom is incredibly hot." Ruth fanned herself, somewhat ineffectually, with one hand.

Harry leant closer to her. "Let's go for a walk down by the lake. It might be a bit cooler there."

He smelt of aftershave, malt whisky and expensive cigars. It was an attractive and intoxicating combination.

"Ruth?"

"What?" she questioned, inelegantly, realising her thoughts had strayed into dangerous territory.

"Would you like to go for a walk by the lake?" he responded, clearly amused.

"Y-yes, yes, I would."

They walked slowly along the gravel path that led from the terrace to the lake, stopping for a few minutes to look at the lights from the hotel reflected on the water's surface.

"You were right. It does seem cooler here," Ruth ventured.

"Very beautiful," Harry replied, rather enigmatically, his gaze fixed on her face.

She opened her mouth and then closed it again, not trusting herself to say anything sensible. "Let's, um, let's…" she pointed into the darkness and started to walk again.

They hadn't gone far when Ruth stumbled, her foot catching on the edge of the path. Harry made a grab for her arm and prevented her from completely losing her balance.

"Are you all right?"

"Ow, no. Bloody shoes," Ruth muttered.

"Come on, let's sit you down for a moment." He looked around hoping to find a bench but there were none to be seen. "You'll have to sit on the grass."

With some difficulty, he manoeuvred her onto a reasonably sound looking patch of turf and knelt in front of her. "Here," he said, gently lifting her leg up, "let me see if there's any damage."

Ruth leant back, propping herself on her elbows. The pain seemed to lessen as Harry carefully examined her ankle. His touch was surprisingly light and she found herself wondering what it would be like to feel his hands-

"I don't think you've torn any ligaments; it's probably sprained though so you're going to have to rest it."

Harry's diagnosis interrupted Ruth's thoughts.

"Rest it, right, OK," she replied.

He stood up and held his hands out to her. "I'll help you to your room."

It took them a while to get back to the hotel. The last few yards were a struggle as Harry had to carry her across the gravelled courtyard, Ruth having discarded her shoes. It wasn't that she was heavy, far from it, but holding her close to him, her arms twined round his neck, was a fantasy made real. And very distracting.

By the time they got to her room, Harry was feeling decidedly hot and bothered.

"Are you OK?" Ruth enquired, noticing the sheen of perspiration on his face and his rather laboured breathing.

"Fine," he lied, quashing the impulse to sweep her into his arms again, and kiss her senseless. "I'll leave you to get some sleep."

"Oh…yes, I suppose I should." There was a note of disappointment in her voice.

"Night Ruth."

"Night. And thanks, Harry."

He smiled and Ruth thought he was going to say something else but then he turned and headed back down the corridor to his own room. She watched him go and sighed, wishing she could be braver where he was concerned.

---

Harry discarded his jacket the moment he entered his room. Unbuttoning his shirt, he walked over to the French windows and opened them. It made little difference to either the temperature of the room or him. He stepped onto the balcony and peered into the darkness. It was eerily quiet; a distant flash of lightening offered some hope of a break in the weather but there was no subsequent rumble of thunder.

Disconsolately, he wandered back into the room and eyed the contents of the mini-bar. He retrieved one of the miniature bottles of whisky and a clean glass. Sipping his drink, he paced around and considered the evening's events, toying with the idea of going back to Ruth's room and declaring his feelings for her. He drained his glass and crossed the floor. As his hand came to rest on the door handle, he realised the alcohol and his overactive imagination had very nearly got the better of him. What he needed was a shower, a cold one probably, not an assignation with Ruth. He took a deep breath and turned towards the bathroom.

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More soon..ish  
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	2. Chapter 2

**More fluffiness…  
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**Ruth hobbled slowly along the corridor. She knew she could have phoned Harry, summoned him back to her room, but that would have been brazen. No, it was better to go to him. It wasn't until after she knocked on his door that she realised it was probably _more_ brazen to be standing outside his room, clad only in her thin nightwear. Just as she was about to start heading back up the corridor, the door opened.

"Ruth? Is everything all right?"

"H-Harry I, um…was…" Her voice faded away as she looked at him. His shirt was completely undone and the lower half of his body was clad only in boxer shorts.

"Ruth?" He took a step nearer to her.

"I…I…need you t-to…take my top off."

Now it was Harry's turn to be speechless. He was already struggling to keep his eyes on Ruth's face as his gaze was being drawn to the camisole she was wearing. One of the narrow straps had slid down her shoulder but she didn't seem to have noticed.

"Your top…?" he eventually asked, still not sure he'd heard correctly.

"Yes; off this." She held up a bottle of water. "I can't undo it."

"Oh." The disappointment in his voice was barely masked. He took the plastic container from her and, to his relief, managed to unscrew the lid without any difficulty. "There you are." He handed the bottle back to her. "Anything else I can do for you?"

All manner of responses careered through Ruth's mind but before she could think of something innocuous to say, both the corridor and Harry's room were plunged into darkness.

"Oh God! What's happening?" Instinctively, she stretched her hands out in front of her. "Harry?" As she said his name, her fingers touched warm skin.

"Jesus, Ruth!"

"Something wrong, Harry?" she questioned.

"Yes, you made me jump." His voice sounded rather strained as he continued, "that bottle's cold."

"Oh, sorry," she replied but made no effort to move the offending item away from his chest.

In truth, she wasn't the slightest bit sorry and decided to make the most of the opportunity to touch his bare flesh. Her fingers had started to move, seemingly of their volition, and she could feel small droplets of sweat on his skin.

"I, er…I think we should-" The remainder of his sentence was cut off as his phone started ringing. "I need to answer that."

"Right. Yes. Of course."

"Erm, are you going to…?" Harry nodded his head towards the interior of his room before realising Ruth couldn't see him. "You'd better come in then. Just for a moment. While I find out what's going on," he added, suddenly aware of the suggestiveness of his invitation.

"Right," Ruth replied, her vocabulary severely reduced as she tried desperately to push away thoughts of just what he might do with her once she was in his room.

She limped through the doorway as Harry groped his way towards the bedside table and his mobile. "Adam? What's going on?" he questioned, pressing the phone to his ear.

"Bugger!" Ruth cursed, none too quietly, as she banged her knee on the end of the bed.

"Er, no. There's no one here. So, a power cut you say? Anything suspicious about it?" Harry spoke loudly, trying to cover up the muttering coming from his companion as she fumbled her way along the edge of the mattress.

Her hand unexpectedly connected with his leg, making him yelp. "No, no. I'm fine; stubbed my toe," Harry lied whilst taking a firm hold of Ruth's fingers. "So it's a genuine power outage then? OK. Tell the perimeter patrols to be extra vigilant, and let me know if there are any problems."

"Sorry," Ruth muttered after he'd ended his phone call. She was very aware of the firm, muscular thigh her hand was being held against.

"Don't worry. I just didn't want Adam getting the, ah, the wrong idea."

"No."

They lapsed into silence and Ruth wondered whether she should reclaim her hand or wait until Harry let go of her. In truth, she was more than happy to stay exactly where she was, for as long as possible.

Harry was also caught in something of a dilemma. He was enjoying the feeling of Ruth's hand pressed against his leg but there was a real danger she would soon notice just how pleasurable he was finding the experience. They would then be faced with a far more embarrassing predicament then their current one. It was time for decisive action.

"I'll help you get back to your room," he said, authoritatively.

"Oh," Ruth replied.

He chose to interpret her response as reluctance to accept his help rather than reluctance to leave his room. "You really should be resting your ankle."

"Yes, you're right," she replied, resignedly.

They shuffled about, awkwardly, both of them unable to decide on the most practical, and decorous, way of achieving their objective. The obvious solution would be for Harry to carry her as he'd done earlier but he knew that once she was in his arms, he was far more likely to take her to his bed than her room. He hastily cleared his mind of images of the two of them making hot, sweaty, passionate love, and tried to think of a way to help her that involved only a small amount of physical contact.

Unbeknownst to Harry, Ruth was also entertaining intimate thoughts about the two of them, imagining how his bare skin would feel against her naked body. "Mmm, yes," she sighed.

The rather wanton tone of her voice as she replied to his suggestion that he put his arm around her waist to support her as she lent against him threatened to reignite Harry's fantasy. "Er, are you OK, Ruth?" he questioned, trying to keep both body and mind under control.

Realising she'd possibly revealed more about the innermost workings of her mind than she intended, she muttered 'yes, fine,' and started walking across the room, almost leaving Harry behind.

They'd got just a few steps when there was bright flash of lightening followed by an extremely loud rumble of thunder. Ruth shrieked and grabbed hold of Harry's arm.

"Good grief, Ruth," he muttered, as her fingers dug into his flesh, "it's only a thunderstorm."

"I-I know but I don't like them…I never have. Sorry," she continued, more quietly, "I know it's pathetic."

"No it's not," Harry replied, worried he'd upset her. "People are frightened of all sorts of things."

"I didn't say I was fright-"

Another crash of thunder cut off her sentence and she clung even more tightly to him.

"Do you want to stay here?" he asked, "until the storm is over."

"Yes please," she whispered.

Harry started to turn around but Ruth made no effort to move. "When I said stay here, I didn't mean literally, on this spot."

"Oh…right." She paused. "Er, what did you have in mind?"

"I thought the bed would be a good place. I mean," he hastily added, "you need to be lying down."

"Lying down?" Ruth replied, faintly, wondering exactly what Harry was planning.

"To rest your ankle," he sighed, silently cursing his inability to say anything to her that didn't make him sound like an old roué.

They made their way towards the bed, neither of them daring to open their mouths in case they made some hideously inappropriate comment. Ruth settled herself onto the mattress, trying to get comfortable.

"I think you should probably prop your foot up. Here," Harry carefully lifted her leg so he could slide a pillow under her ankle. "Comfortable?"

"Yes, thank you," she replied, feeling her skin start to flush. The combination of his gentle attentiveness and the knowledge of how little he was wearing was making her mind go into overdrive. There was another bright flash of lightening, which momentarily illuminated the room and broke Ruth's train of thought.

"Oh God!" she cried out.

A warm hand grasped her fingers just as the thunder began to rumble overhead.

"It's OK, I'm here," Harry soothed, moving to sit next to her on the bed. She held his hand, tightly, and he could feel her trembling.

"Sorry," she whispered, "I know it's childish."

"Don't worry," he replied, shifting closer to her. "You're safe with me."

"Thank you for not making fun of me," she responded, shyly.

"I would never do that," Harry said, surprised, and touched, by her words. "Try and get some sleep," he added, aware how close he was to revealing the true extent of his feelings for her. And this was not the time or place for that conversation.

She murmured something he couldn't make out; he gently squeezed her hand but she said nothing more. He waited for a few minutes and then carefully un-entwined their fingers before shrugging out of his shirt, relieved to get the crumpled, sweat-dampened garment away from his skin. He lay down next to Ruth, tentatively putting his arm around her shoulders. She gave a contented sigh and snuggled against him.

As he drifted off to sleep, Harry smiled to himself. He was finally going to get his wish, and wake up with her.

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More soon… :)  
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	3. Chapter 3

**More fluffiness. Still don't own them. Don't own the song, either.**

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"_That's the way, uh-huh uh-huh, I like it, uh-huh uh-huh."_

Ruth lazily stretched a hand out towards the bedside table, trying to locate the radio and switch it off. Her fingers scrabbled around, finding a phone then a watch but no radio.

"_When I get to be in your arms, when we're all all alone."  
_

Her eyes snapped open as she finally realised the singing was coming from the bathroom - and the singer was Harry. She was still in his room, still in his bed and _he_ was in the shower.

"_When you whisper sweet in my ear, when you turn, turn me on."_

That was enough for Ruth. She sat up and carefully shuffled towards the edge of the mattress. Her ankle was still aching and a colourful collection of bruises had appeared, complementing the puffiness that surrounded the joint. She tentatively placed her feet on the floor, wincing with pain as she attempted to stand up.

"You shouldn't be putting any weight on it for a while," Harry announced from the bathroom doorway.

"It'll be fine once I get moving," Ruth replied, through gritted teeth. She tried to take a step and immediately regretted it as her ankle nearly gave way under her.

Harry moved quickly, catching hold of her and helping back to the bed. "You should have stayed put," he said, sitting down next to her. "Got some more sleep."

"Your, ah, you…woke me," she muttered, willing her body not to acknowledge his proximity or the fact that the only thing he was wearing was a towel.

"You don't like my singing?"

"No…yes. I mean," she raced on, "there's nothing wrong with your singing. It's just the choice of song was a bit…surprising."

"I could have sung 'Get Down Tonight'," he remarked, winking at her.

Ruth looked puzzled and then blushed profusely as she remembered the lyrics.

Deciding he should leave her to get over her embarrassment, Harry stood up. "Right, just give me a couple of minutes to get dressed and then we can get moving."

"D-dressed?" she stammered, failing to get her thoughts away from Harry's half-naked body.

"Well, I can hardly help you to your room in the nip, can I?" he replied, giving her a cheeky smile as he went back into the bathroom.

He reappeared a minute or two later, lazily buttoning up his shirt, which hung loosely over his trousers. "We'd better get a move on; I'm supposed to be seeing the Home Secretary off the premises in about twenty minutes."

Ruth nodded at him, wishing he didn't do dishevelled _quite_ so well and she didn't find it _quite_ so attractive.

"There are two ways to do this," he remarked, conversationally, as he moved closer to her. "Fireman's lift or in my arms. Any preference?"

"I…I…" she flailed, her mind failing to produce a coherent response.

"Personally," Harry continued, amused by the expression on Ruth's face, "I think a fireman's lift would be a bit undignified, so it looks like you'll have to be in my arms again."

He didn't bother waiting for a reply but helped her to her feet. "Hold on tight," he said, softly, as he effortlessly picked her up.

There was an awkward moment by the door as Harry fumbled about, unable to get a proper grip on the handle. It was Ruth who came to their rescue, reaching out to open the door as he held onto her.

After a quick check to ensure there was no one about to witness his chivalry, Harry started walking along the corridor.

"Got your key?" he asked, as they neared Ruth's room.

"Yes, it's in the pocket of my pyjama bottoms."

Deciding it was better to let her retrieve the key herself, he gently set her down but kept one arm firmly around her waist. She wriggled about, trying to reach the small hip pocket of her pyjama trousers.

"Everything all right?" Harry asked, resisting the temptation to offer to help her locate the key.

"No," Ruth replied. "I don't seem to have my key-card."

"You didn't leave it in your room-"

"No I bloody well didn't!" she snapped, panic beginning to rise in her chest. "Sorry," she mumbled, feeling guilty when she saw the hurt look on Harry's face. "I definitely had it when I came to see you last night. What are we going to do?"

"Don't worry," Harry soothed. "I expect it's in my room somewhere. Stay here while I go and look for it."

---

Zaf leant back against the banisters and stared at the wooden door a few feet away from him, willing it to open. Jo's assertion that she'd only be five minutes had clearly been an outright lie and leaving him hanging around in the corridor was payback for him suggesting he wait in her room as she finished dressing.

Sighing heavily, he turned around and studied the rooms facing him. He rather liked this part of the building; the conversion from stately home to flagship hotel had been sympathetically done. The main staircase had been retained, and the wide corridors looked out over the stairwell, giving any interested observer a good view of the comings and goings of the guests on the floors above or below. Zaf had intended to put this aspect to good use, and not just as part of their official operation, but his attempts to take charge of the room allocations had been thwarted. He was certain that he'd ended up having to share with Adam after his plan to put Harry and Ruth in adjoining rooms had been discovered by Ruth. Jo had denied saying anything to her but Zaf was unconvinced.

He turned around again and tipped his head back, trying to see if there was any movement on the upper floors. There was the sound of a door closing and then a familiar voice. Zaf's eyes widened as he listened to the exchange; apparently, the adjoining rooms hadn't been needed after all…

---

"Found it," Harry called along the corridor, waving at Ruth.

"Thank God," she muttered, anxious to get into her room before they were seen by one of their colleagues.

"It was under the bed," Harry explained as drew level with Ruth.

"Oh right." She took the key-card out of his hand and unlocked the door.

"It must have fallen out of your pyjamas, probably when you grabbed me."

---

"What _are_ you doing, Zaf?" Jo questioned, watching her colleague leaning back over the banisters, perilously close to falling over them.

"Bloody Hell, Jo!" he exclaimed, visibly shaken.

"You need to brush up your surveillance skills," the blonde responded, highly amused. "I wasn't even in stealth mode."

"Funny girl. For that, I'm not going to tell you what I've just heard."

Jo moved closer to Zaf. "Don't be like that. You know you want to tell me," she wheedled.

"What's it worth?"

"That depends," she replied, giving Zaf a sultry smile. "If it's really interesting, I might let you take me out to dinner."

---

"I didn't grab hold of you," Ruth said, more loudly than she intended.

"Yes you did. When the thunder start-"

"Sssh!" she hissed, cutting him off mid-sentence.

"I was just saying-"

"Get in here," she commanded, grabbing his arm.

Harry found himself being bundled into Ruth's bedroom before he could even draw breath. She slammed the door shut and pushed him against it.

"I heard Zaf's voice; I don't want him catching us," she said, breathing hard and blushing when she realised how close she was to Harry.

"Catching us?" he repeated, wondering if her train of thought was going in the same direction as his.

"He'll think we've been…you know…" Ruth stopped, not entirely sure if she wanted him to understand what she meant.

"Right…yes," Harry replied, wishing they had been doing what she was alluding to.

They remained pressed together, her hands resting against his chest, his arms around her waist. Ruth's fingers started to fidget nervously with one of his shirt buttons. He smelt clean and fresh and his hair was still slightly damp from the shower. She wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him senseless.

"I should go," Harry said, quietly, watching the different emotions flitting over Ruth's face. "The Home Secretary…"

"Yes, I suppose you should." She reluctantly pulled away from him.

"Can you manage?" he enquired, his hand resting on the door handle. "With getting dress-…getting ready?"

She nodded, not daring to speak in case she asked him to come back and help her.

"OK." He smiled. "I'll check on you when the Home Secretary has gone."

"Thanks," she whispered, and shut the door behind him, the latch clicking softly into place.

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More, as soon as I can (I **_**am**_** typing :P ) **


	4. Chapter 4

**More fluffy insanity..

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**Adam and Harry watched the Home Secretary's black limousine and the police escort vehicle pull smoothly away down the gravel drive.

"Thank God they've gone," Adam remarked, and then yawned, widely.

"Problem?" Harry asked, as they climbed the steps back into the hotel.

"His protection detail drove me crazy during that power cut last night. I had to update them every fifteen minutes. Bloody ridiculous."

"Just SO1 doing their job, Adam."

"Right," the younger man replied, giving his boss a sideways look. It wasn't like Harry to be quite so magnanimous where the police were concerned. Clearly, whatever, or more accurately, _whoever_, Harry had been occupied with when the lights had gone out, was responsible for his generous mood.

As they neared reception, Harry slowed down. "I just need to do something, you go on ahead."

"Don't worry, I'm not in any rush," Adam replied, curiosity piqued.

"It's fine; go and get some breakfast."

The commanding tone of Harry's voice indicated that his equanimity that morning wasn't going to last indefinitely. Adam decided not to argue and walked towards the dining room.

After making sure his colleague was out of sight, Harry turned his attention to the receptionist. "Good morning," he greeted the pretty blonde, giving her a boyish smile, "I wonder if you could do something for me?"

---

Ruth was drying her hair when her phone rang.

"It's me," Harry announced. "Are you OK, managing all right?"

"I'm fine, I was just…yes, I'm managing," Ruth replied, deciding not to reveal she'd just had a shower. That would only spark a lecture from him about taking unnecessary risks or, even worse, set them off on another double entendre laden conversation.

"Good." He paused. "I've arranged for room service to bring you some breakfast. I didn't think it would be a good idea for you to try and get to the dining room, not in your condition."

There was a silence as Ruth carefully thought about her reply. "Thank you, Harry," she eventually offered.

He rang off after saying goodbye, leaving her pondering on what he would tell the rest of the team to explain her absence at breakfast. She briefly contemplated calling Jo but decided that, without knowing what Harry would say, she was more likely to encourage speculation than dispel it.

---

"How does he do that?" Zaf asked, watching Harry make the attractive waitress taking his breakfast order blush and smile.

"Well, it's like this," Adam began, using a tone more suited for speaking to his son than a colleague. "You pick up that red folder on the table with the word 'Menu' written on it, read the list of items printed inside-"

"Ever thought of becoming a comedian, mate?" Zaf replied, sarcastically, "because I really wouldn't bother."

Adam grinned. "You're only jealous."

"Jealous of what?," Jo cut in, plonking herself in the empty chair between her colleagues.

"Our boss's success with women," Adam explained, ignoring the pleading look on Zaf's face. "He can't understand why Harry's chat up lines work and his don't."

The young female spook laughed. "Probably because Harry is more subtle, more charming, funnier…" she tailed off, realising, rather too late, she was setting herself up for some serious teasing.

"Something you want to tell us?" Zaf asked, grinning widely.

Jo ignored him and changed the subject. "Where's Ruth?"

Both men shrugged.

"Haven't seen her yet," Adam offered, pouring himself another cup of coffee.

Jo looked thoughtfully at Harry and then stood up. "Back in a minute," she said, vaguely, and then casually strolled towards the buffet where an array of cereals and fresh fruit were laid out. She kept one eye on the entrance to the dining room as she filled a dish with slices of grapefruit and orange. On her way back to her table, she took a slight detour and headed towards her boss.

"Morning Harry. Sleep well?"

"Good morning, Jo. Yes, thank you," Harry replied, mildly surprised at the question.

"Is Ruth all right? It's just I haven't seen her this morning."

"She's having breakfast in her room. She's twisted her ankle."

"Oh? When did she do that?"

"Last night. Down by the lake-" Harry abruptly stopped, realising the beguiling tone of voice his young officer was using had nearly made him say too much. "She, ah, she rang me, earlier. To tell me."

"Oh, I see." Jo smiled sweetly, determined not be given the brush-off quite so easily. "Adam didn't mention it, though."

Harry was prevented from replying by the arrival of his breakfast. After the waitress had left, he pointedly picked up his knife and fork. Sensing she wasn't going to get any more information, Jo continued on to her table.

"So?" Zaf quizzed, not even giving his colleague a chance to sit down.

"Apparently, Ruth's twisted her ankle. She did it last night." Jo stopped and took a mouthful of grapefruit, deliberately chewing it slowly. "She did it down by the lake."

"Ha!" Zaf exclaimed, loudly. "I bet they were skinny dipping!"

"Jesus, mate," Adam hissed. "Do you want to say it a bit louder? I don't think they heard you in reception."

The younger spook briefly looked guilty, and turned his attention to his breakfast.

"Mind you," Jo remarked, after a few minutes. "I think he ordered everything on the menu, so he must have been doing something to make him _that_ hungry."

"Clearly, you've never been to the Regency café with him after an all-nighter," Adam commented before shovelling a forkful of scrambled egg into his mouth.

Zaf's reply was lost in a coughing fit as he almost choked on his toast.

"An all-nighter on the _Grid_, mate. Don't get too excited, and stop spitting crumbs everywhere."

"But that still gives credence to my theory," the dark-haired spook said, enthusiastically. "He's worked up an appetite."

"Oh for God's sake," Ros muttered, as she passed her colleagues. "Don't you lot have anything better to do with your time?"

"What's the matter, Ros? Wouldn't Malcolm let you touch his sensitive equipment?" Zaf asked, his face a picture of innocence.

"So funny, Zafar," she replied, icily. "Have you and Adam enjoyed sharing a room? I hope you've not been squabbling over the mirror."

Jo laughed. "They drew up a rota and pinned it to the bathroom door. It was very precise, down to the last second."

Ros smirked as both men scowled at Jo.

"She's joking," Adam said, trying to retain some credibility.

"Of course she is," Ros replied, clearly not believing him for one moment. "Right, I shall leave you children to play."

"Hang on," Jo said, "I want to ask you something."

The older blonde raised her eyebrow in response.

"Don't you think there's something different about Harry this morning? I don't know, a certain…"

Ros discreetly studied her boss, who was enthusiastically tucking into his breakfast. "I suppose there is an air of _dishabille_ about him today."

"Des who?" Zaf asked, grabbing the last piece of toast just as Adam reached for it.

The two women looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

"_Dishabille_, Zaf. Carelessly or partially dressed," Ros explained, slowly and carefully enunciating each word. "Something that Harry manages to carry off rather successfully. And something," she called over her shoulder as she started to move away, "you could never hope to emulate."

"Blimey," Zaf said, after a few moments. "I don't know what it is Harry's got but he should bottle it. He'd make a fortune."

---

There was the sound of voices and the door to Ruth's room opened just as Harry got to the top of the stairs. A tall, dark-haired man stepped into the corridor, followed by the young receptionist Harry had spoken to earlier. She gave him a radiant smile and murmured, 'hello again' before following her male companion down the hallway.

"Who was that man?" Harry enquired as he strode into the room.

"Doctor Wright, the hotel's in-house medic," Ruth replied, rather put out by the inquisitiveness of the question.

"You never told me you wanted a doctor. I could have arranged that."

"Well, I didn't think I did want one but the receptionist offered when she rang to get my breakfast order."

"I didn't know Doctor Kildare was on the bloody menu," Harry remarked, acidly.

"It's Doctor Wright, Harry, as I think I mentioned," Ruth replied, glaring at him. "And he's very nice. Very professional. He's given me some painkillers."

"So long as he isn't Mr Bloody-Right", Harry muttered under his breath.

"I didn't quite catch that," she retorted, with a look that suggested she'd heard perfectly well.

"I said I hope they help you sleep tonight. How was breakfast?" he added, in an attempt to change the subject.

"Fine." Ruth said, shuffling about in the chair she was sitting in.

"Need a hand?" Harry asked, moving towards her.

"I think it would be better if Jo helped me."

"Oh." He stopped, halfway across the floor, suddenly at a loss as to what to say or do.

"Well, I don't think you have any shoes that'll fit me. I need to borrow Jo's trainers." She pointed at her damaged ankle. "I can't get my own shoes on."

"Ah, right," he laughed. "Thought I'd upset you there for a moment and I wouldn't want to do that. Not ever."

Ruth could feel herself starting to blush as he gazed at her. "No, I ah, I know that."

There was a long silence as Harry continued to look at her and Ruth felt compelled to study the pattern in the carpet.

"I suppose I should let you finish getting ready," he finally said. "Do you want me to send Jo up?"

She shook her head. "No, I'll ring her; I think that would be better."

"Yes, you're right." He walked towards the door, stopping to smile at her before he opened it. "I'll see you downstairs."

* * *

**More fluff soonish.. ;) **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N Longer chapter but I'm under orders not to split it up. **

**More fluff, more innuendo, some of Malcolm's made up software and…well read it and find out ;) **

**

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**

Ruth was a little disconcerted to see most of the team waiting in the foyer as Jo helped her out of the lift.

"Need any help?" Zaf asked, abandoning his conversation with Adam as soon as he saw the two women appear.

"We're fine, thanks," Jo quickly replied.

"I was asking Ruth-"

"Right you lot." Harry's authoritative voice curtailed Zaf's protest. "Let's get moving."

The spooks looked at one another and then started to slowly gather together their belongings.

"Come on," Harry called out, impatiently, "we haven't got all day. Zaf, you're with Malcolm in the van; Ruth, you're coming with me."

Looks were exchanged and eyebrows raised.

"Cosy," Zaf said, as Adam walked past.

"Shut up, mate. And don't wind Malcolm up."

"He can wind you and Jo up," Ros announced, smirking at Adam. "_I'm_ going with Malcolm."

"Don't go taking any detours along quiet country lanes," Zaf called after her. "Remember Malcolm's sensitive equipment."

Harry was pacing up and down beside his car by the time Ruth and Jo got outside. "Ah, there you are." He opened one of the rear doors and smiled at Ruth. "It'll be better on the back seat."

Jo coughed violently in a desperate attempt to stifle a laugh as her injured colleague went a deep shade of red.

"Er, what I meant was, there's more room in the back. You'll be able to stretch out," Harry blundered on.

"Just help me get in the car, please," Ruth muttered, not daring to look him in the eye.

"Yes, of course."

"I'll leave you to it," Jo remarked, failing to hide a grin. "See you back at the Grid."

---

The painkillers Ruth had taken made her sleepy and she dozed on the journey back to London. Harry sat silently in the front passenger seat, occasionally shifting so he could look at her in the rear view mirror, much to the amusement of his driver. She woke as they pulled into the entrance to the Thames House car park.

"Why are we stopping here?" she asked, as they came to a standstill just past the security gate.

"There's no point parking up just to drop me off," Harry replied, unclipping his seatbelt. "Tony's going to take you home."

"But I don't want to go home," Ruth protested. "I've got loads of work to do."

Harry was already out of the car. "Don't argue; you're going home."

She twisted around in the seat and glared at him through the window. "It's my ankle that's sprained, not my mind," she said, loudly, and opened the car door.

"For God's sake, Ruth," Harry muttered, aware his driver was taking a close interest in their conversation. "Please, just go home and rest."

"No!" When he made no attempt to assist her, she continued, "Are you going to help me or do I have to crawl back to the Grid on my hands and knees?"

Reluctantly, Harry helped her from the car. "How do you want to do this?" he asked, quietly, aware the rest of their colleagues had now arrived in the car park and were watching their every move whilst pretending to unload their vehicles.

"Fireman's lift?" Ruth sarcastically replied.

"Don't tempt me," Harry growled at her, his patience fast running out.

"Anything wrong?" Adam enquired as he casually strolled towards them.

"No-"

"We're just deciding on the best way to get back to the Grid," Ruth cut across Harry.

"No problem, I'll carry you." Before she could protest, Adam had swept her into his arms. "OK?" he asked, giving her a cheeky smile.

She nodded and Adam began walking towards the lift. She risked a quick look in Harry's direction but he had turned away and was talking to his driver.

---

Once back on the Grid, the team settled into their usual routine and engrossed themselves in their work. Harry had gone straight to his office, emerging only once to tell them to be ready for a debriefing at three o'clock. He barely looked in Ruth's direction and she sighed, unhappily.

"Everything OK?" Jo enquired, perching herself on the edge of Ruth's desk.

"Hmm?" the analyst replied, vaguely. "Oh, it's just my ankle. Makes getting about so difficult."

Jo smiled. "You'll have to borrow Adam for a few days. Get him to carry you around."

Ruth gave a small laugh. "That's an idea," she said. In reality though, there was only one man in whose arms she wanted to be, and he clearly wasn't very happy with her at the moment.

"Crutches," Malcolm announced as he passed the two women.

"Sorry?" Ruth asked, not entirely sure she'd heard correctly.

"You need a set of crutches, Ruth. There should be some in the medical centre, leave it with me."

"OK," she replied, and looked at Jo, who shrugged.

"That's the wonder of Malcolm," the young blonde said as she stood up. "A solution for every problem."

---

Zaf leant back in his chair, his attention drawn towards his two colleagues sitting at the end of the table. Harry was busy watching Ruth watching Adam. And it was clear that their boss wasn't happy about what he was seeing.

"Malcolm, I believe you wanted to give us a brief run down on the information we managed to collect despite the attempts of our various international colleagues to block us."

Adam's words brought Zaf's mind back to the matter at hand and he focused his attention on the other end of the table.

"Thank you, Adam," Malcolm began. "We have quite a substantial amount of data to process. Obviously there is the intelligence gathered from face-to-face conversations, and CCTV footage. But I'm especially pleased with how successful my enhancements to the security software for the door locking system was. We know every event for every lock for every door in the hotel."

"Enhancements?" Ruth asked, trying to push away the slight fuzzy-mindedness the painkillers had left.

"Yes. It was just a case of adding some additional logarithms to calculate the amount of time each lock event lasted, and some extra coding to enable _every_ lock event to be captured. It's quite good software to begin with, thankfully, although it's criminal it hasn't been developed to its full potential. I don't know _what_ some of these software companies are thinking-"

"Sod the software companies, Malcolm," Ruth snapped, to the surprise of everyone in the meeting room. "_Exactly_ what sort of information have you recorded?"

"I was just getting to that," the technician replied, sounding rather hurt.

"Please ensure you use words we can all understand," Harry interjected, earning him a scowl from Ros.

Malcolm pursed his lips. "I'll keep it simple, then. Usually, card operated door locks only record the instances either a card or the master key has been used to release the lock. I tweaked the software so that it recorded every action on the lock. This means every time the door was opened, be it from the outside with a key or from the inside by somebody in the room, this was recorded."

"But what about during the power cut?" Jo quizzed.

"The locks are battery powered. They continue to work and record information. As soon as the power was restored, the data was downloaded."

"So you know every time a door opened," Ruth said, her brow furrowing as she tried to work out exactly what she was being told.

"Yes," Malcolm replied, exasperation barely concealed. "That's what I just said, isn't it? Using that information, the CCTV and our own reports, we'll be able to work out where everyone was at any given time."

Zaf grinned at his colleagues. "_Every_ assignation will be revealed."

Ros raised an eyebrow. "You're vocabulary seems to have improved since this morning, Zaf."

"But surely it's not 100 per cent foolproof, Malcolm?" Ruth asked. "What about if someone opened their door just to look along the corridor, for example. How will you be able to interpret that?"

"Like I said, that's where the other information comes in. We'll need to analyse the data carefully. There's no point plucking random events out and trying to guess what was going-"

"Thank you," Harry announced, curtly. "Right, we're done here. Back to work everyone. Malcolm, stay put. I need a word."

Harry remained seated, impatiently tapping his fingers on the table as the rest of the team filed out of the room. Once they'd gone, he got up and opened the door again to check there was no one lurking outside. The sound of hurried footsteps indicated his suspicions had been correct. He slid the door into place and turned to look at his colleague.

"About that door lock data, Malcolm."

---

By 6.30, the Grid was considerably quieter. Zaf had spent the rest of the afternoon grinning and winking at Ruth, in between making comments about trysts and rendezvous, much to her annoyance. And when Malcolm had finally emerged from the meeting room, he'd gone straight to the forgery suite saying he didn't want to be disturbed.

Deciding she'd had enough for the day, Ruth switched her computer off and reached into her desk drawer for her bag. She looked at it, wondering if she could manage to carry it and her holdall, and use the crutches Malcolm had found for her.

"Off home?" a quiet voice enquired, disturbing her thought process.

"Y-yes, Harry. That's OK isn't it?"

"Of course it is," he replied. "You seem to have forgotten I was trying to get you to go a few hours ago." There was a faint note of reproach in his voice.

"Sorry," she mumbled, feeling guilty about her earlier behaviour.

"Don't worry about it." He smiled. "Give me five minutes then I'll drive you home."

"I can manage on the bus."

"Don't be ridiculous! You won't be able to get on and off for a start. And what are you going to do if you can't get a seat?"

"Well I'll bloody well stand then!" she snapped back at him.

"I'm just trying to help," Harry sighed. "I can't seem to do anything right where you're concerned. Everything I say either sounds like a line from some dreadful sex comedy-" He stopped, abruptly, sat back on the edge of Zaf's desk and buried his face in his hands.

"Everything I say," he eventually continued, his words directed towards the floor, "seems to make you uncomfortable or angry." He raised his head and looked at Ruth. "That's right isn't it?"

"It's true that you've said some things that have made me feel a bit uncomfortable," Ruth replied, barely able to meet his gaze. "But, in a…a good way."

"Oh…really?"

She nodded.

"That's…interesting," he said, thoughtfully. "So you didn't think I sound like I've escaped from a _Confessions_ film?"

"No. Anyway, there wasn't one called _Confessions of a Spy_, but there was a _Carry on Spying_."

"I didn't know you were an aficionado of 70s sex comedies."

"I'm not!" she exclaimed. "Anyway, the _Carry On_ films aren't sex comedies, not in the way that the _Confessions_ films are…" Too late, she realised her desire to win the argument had once again caused her to speak without thinking.

Harry was visibly amused by her outburst and the horror struck look on her face.

"Well I've never seen any of them," she said, huffily, "I was far too young at the time-"

"Whereas I was a grubby-minded student with nothing better to do."

"I didn't say that," Ruth gabbled, still not entirely sure how their conversation had got so out of control again.

"No, _I_ did." He winked at her. "Come on then, lets get you home. You can tell me about the sort of films you _do_ like.

---

Their journey was trouble-free and they even managed a short trip to the supermarket without arguing. Harry had dutifully carried the basket, gradually filling it with the various items Ruth wanted as they made their way along the aisles. The tantalising smell of fish and chips had wafted in through the open car window as they waited at a set of traffic lights. They had looked at each other and the decision was made about what to have for their supper without a word being exchanged.

After they finished their meal, Harry cleared the table and did the washing up, assuring Ruth it was no trouble. She sat at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of tea and watching him. She was so lost in her thoughts that it took several minutes for her to realise he'd finished the dishes and was leaning back against the sink, gazing at her.

"Er, sorry," she mumbled. "I was just thinking…"

"Thinking what, Ruth?"

"About the…ah…the garden. It's looking a bit neglected." She silently congratulated herself on coming up with a innocuous explanation for being distracted. "I was going to tidy it up at the weekend but I'll have to leave it for another time now."

"I could do it, if that's all right with you?"

"I, er…" Ruth's gaze dropped to the floor. She felt torn – it really wasn't fair to let him give up his free time for her.

"Ruth?"

"Are you sure you don't mind?" she asked, heart pounding at the prospect of spending part of her weekend with him.

"Of course not. I wouldn't have offered. Unless you'd prefer someone else to help you."

She looked puzzled. "Someone else?"

"Someone younger, taller, fitter…"

"Do you mean Adam?" she asked, softly, touched by how vulnerable he sounded.

"You and him seem to be getting on very well." His attempt at nonchalance was pitiful and she saw right through it.

"Oh Harry! I love Adam dearly, as a _friend_," she quickly added. "But somehow I don't see him mowing my lawn, do you?"

"No," he laughed. "Does that mean you can see me mowing your lawn?"

"Is that a euphemism?" Ruth asked, and then blushed deeply as she realised what she'd implied.

"Would you like it to be?"

"I…I rather think I would."

He took a couple of steps towards her. "Then I suppose the next thing I should ask you is, do you want me to take you to bed?"

"Yes, i-it…probably is," she replied, head swimming at the dangerously seductive tone of his voice.

"But maybe not tonight," he said, one hand gently cupping her face as he leant towards her.

His mouth met hers in a slow, tender kiss, their lips sliding softly together. They eventually broke apart, minds reeling from their embrace.

"Will you be able to manage the stairs?" Harry finally asked, unsure of what he wanted her answer to be.

Ruth nodded, pushing down the urge to ask him to stay the night. "I think so."

He smiled. "OK. I'll pick you up in the morning."

She started to move slowly across the kitchen. "Before you go," she said, as she rummaged in a drawer, "you better take this, just in case." She turned around and held up a key.

Harry walked over to where she was standing. "Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes. Night Harry."

He placed a sweet kiss on her cheek, murmured 'night' and slipped quietly out of the house.

**

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Thanks for reading. More soon…**


	6. Chapter 6

**Still not mine…**

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Harry shifted in his seat and used the pretence of writing some notes to check the time. It was nearly 8 p.m. He'd been at the Cabinet office almost two hours and they weren't even a third of the way through the agenda. He sighed, silently cursing the person who thought Friday evening was a good time to hold a meeting. Normally, he would have only been mildly irritated by the timing but he'd had other things planned, not least of which had been driving Ruth home. The look of disappointment on her face when he'd told her he couldn't give her a lift had exacerbated the guilt he was already feeling. It had been almost two days since he'd kissed her but nothing further had happened, not even a conversation about what, if anything, it had meant.

Sensing a question was heading in his direction, Harry pushed away the memory of Ruth's lips against his and tried to concentrate on what was being said.

--

Ruth watched Jo and Zaf laughing and flirting, wishing she'd declined their offer to go for a pizza. She was certain Jo had invited her just to wind up Zaf, who had politely gone along with the suggestion but hadn't quite managed to hide his annoyance. Her thoughts turned to the man she'd much rather have been spending her evening with. It seemed as if fate had been conspiring against them over the past couple of days. They'd had no opportunity to discuss their kiss; every time she'd managed to build up the courage to talk to Harry, something had happened to ruin the moment.

"I said, do you want some dessert?" Jo's question was accompanied by a gentle squeeze of Ruth's hand.

"Sorry. I was miles away. Dessert, um, I don't think-"

"Go on," the blonde encouraged. "I'm having some ice cream."

"You'd be surprised how much she can pack away," Zaf said, grinning at the outraged expression that appeared on Jo's face in response to his comment.

"Watch it, Younis, or I'll tell Ruth about the tub of double choc chip that mysteriously disappeared when I was away for a weekend!"

"Nothing to do with me," Zaf responded, laughing, "you need to have a word with a certain colleague of ours who brought his son over for a visit."

"Yeah, right," Jo replied, disbelievingly. "Ice cream then, Ruth?"

"You've talked me into it," the brunette replied, reasoning that if she couldn't have Harry right at that moment, a dish of sweet dessert was a reasonable alternative.

---

Ruth swore under her breath as she heard her mobile ringing. She placed her mug of hot chocolate on the kitchen worktop and hobbled slowly into the hall to retrieve her handbag, hoping she could reach her phone before the caller gave up or it went to voicemail. She didn't fancy having to do battle with the overly complex retrieval system only to find out no message had been left.

"Hello," she said, gruffly, not bothering to check the caller display.

"It's me," Harry announced, sounding a little taken aback.

"Harry." She paused. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, fine. I just thought I'd make sure you'd got home OK."

"Yes, I did. Thank you."

There was a few moments of silence and then they both started to speak at the same time.

"You go first," Harry suggested, when the line went quiet again.

"Jo and Zaf brought me home. After we'd had dinner. Well, a pizza. I suppose that counts as dinner, doesn't it?"

"I think it does, yes," he replied, amused by her rambling. "Are we still all right for tomorrow?"

"As long as you're sure you can spare the time."

"For you, always," he said, quietly.

He heard her gasp and then nervously clear her throat.

"That's good," she eventually muttered.

"I'll be there about eleven, eleven-thirty, if that's not too early."

"No, that's fine," she said, her stomach fluttering as she realised she'd be seeing him in less than twelve hours.

"Excellent. See you tomorrow."

He rung off after she bade him goodnight. She remained standing in the hallway, smiling to herself, for some time.

---

The doorbell rang at 11.15. It was followed by the sound of the key being placed in the lock and a familiar voice calling hello before asking if it was OK to come in.

"Hello Harry. I'm in the kitchen."

"Hope you don't mind, I brought an extra visitor," he said, indicating Scarlett, who was excitedly wagging her tail. "I wasn't sure how your cats would react."

Ruth smiled. "It's fine. So long as she doesn't eat their food, they won't mind her being here."

"Did you hear that?" Harry addressed the dog. "You're a visitor, so behave yourself. And I'll behave as well," he added, eyes twinkling as he looked at Ruth.

"Glad to hear it," she replied, daring herself to meet his gaze.

"And we're not going to eat you out of house and home either. I've brought lunch." He held up a carrier bag. "Ham and fresh bread rolls for us and some of Scarlett's favourite food. Don't worry, it's all wrapped separately."

Ruth gave a small laugh and then occupied herself by discreetly surveying him as he sorted out the food. He was wearing black jeans and a grey polo shirt that was open at the neck. It was a surprisingly casual look and suited him rather well.

"Right then," he said, turning to face her. "Where do you want me to start?"

---

Harry stopped the lawnmower and ran a hand over his perspiring face. "Ruth," he asked, walking back towards the patio where she was sitting. "I was wondering, would you mind if I changed? I brought a pair of shorts with me."

"N-no," she gulped. "Not at all."

"Great. I won't be long." He smiled and then headed back into the house.

He returned a few minutes later, wearing a pair of dark blue, chino style shorts. Ruth desperately tried not to stare at him but found her eyes drawn to the lower half of his body as she admired his rather fine legs. Her gaze had move back to his thighs when he asked her if it would be OK to take his top off. She mumbled 'oh yes' and watched with barely concealed appreciation as he removed his shirt and placed it over the back of one of the chairs.

Harry shifted from one foot to the other, hoping Ruth was not finding his display of bare flesh off-putting. She certainly seemed to be enjoying looking at him but he couldn't quite manage to quell the thought she might not find him attractive.

"Is everything all right?" he ventured, nervously.

"Hmm? Oh, I was thinking you should probably put some sunscreen on." She picked up the bottle of sun lotion that was sitting on the table and waved it at him. "Here."

Rather self-consciously, Harry applied the cream to his arms and chest, aware he was still being watched. "I, er, I don't suppose you could…" he asked, indicating his back. "I can't quite reach."

He sat down next to Ruth and turned in the seat so she could apply the lotion. He forced himself to concentrate on looking at the various plants that were in an assortment of colourful containers at the side of the patio rather than the feel of her hands on his skin.

As her fingers moved over Harry's back, Ruth found her mind wandering and was rather flustered when he asked if she'd finished. Realising her hands had stilled a while ago and were just resting against him, she muttered that she was done and sat back in her seat.

"Thanks," Harry said, giving Ruth a puzzled look and headed back towards the far end of the lawn, where he'd left the mower.

---

"I know being able to read things when they're upside down is a very useful skill in our line of work but I think you might make more progress with your book if you turn it up the right way."

Ruth almost leapt into the air at the sound of Harry's voice. She'd been so distracted by fantasising about the pair of them in a variety of different situations she hadn't even realised he'd finished cutting the grass.

"I was…" she began, then stopped, unable to come up with a credible explanation.

"What, Ruth?" he asked, not bothering to hide his amusement.

"I was looking at the forsythia; it needs pruning," she shot back, inspiration suddenly striking.

"And there I was thinking you were admiring my technique," he replied, eyes glittering.

Ruth blushed, fiddled with her book and then finally placed it on the table. "I might have been keeping an eye on you. To make sure you were doing it properly."

Harry sat down next to her. "Was I?" he questioned, his eyes fixed on Ruth's face.

"Yes," she mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

"And what do you want me to do now?" The tone of his voice made it clear he asking about more than gardening.

Ruth took a breath but didn't reply, nerves and doubt preventing her from telling him what she really wanted.

"I'll make a start on that forsythia, shall I?" he eventually suggested, wondering if he'd pushed things too far. "It would help though," he said, as he stood up, "if you were to give me some guidance."

He let the sentence linger in the air and began to walk back down the garden as Ruth watched him.

---

After lunch, they spent the rest of the afternoon gently flirting as Harry continued with various tasks in the garden. By six o'clock, he was looking tired and sweaty, and Ruth was feeling guilty, thinking she'd probably taken advantage of his offer of help.

"I think that'll do for today."

"Sure?" Harry asked, trying not to sound too relieved.

She nodded. "You can have a rest and I'll make dinner."

"Sounds good," he replied, as he attempted to brush bits of leaf off his bare chest.

Ruth stretched her arm out towards him. "Do you…er…" Her hand stopped, mid-air, as she couldn't decide whether she should help him.

They stood and looked at each other, neither quite sure what to do next.

"Perhaps I should have a shower," Harry said, breaking the silence that had settled between them. "Ruth?"

"Y-yes. You know where the bathroom is and there's clean towels in the airing cupboard," she gabbled, finally prompted into speaking.

"Right then. I'll go and do that," he replied, half-tempted to ask her to scrub his back. He pushed the thought away and headed inside.

---

Harry stood just inside the kitchen and watched, amused, as Ruth chopped vegetables, maintaining a running commentary on what she was doing, apparently for the benefit of the pets.

"Can I help," he said, as he sauntered across the room.

"Harry!" she exclaimed. "I was just, ah…doing dinner."

"And talking to the cats and Scarlett."

She blushed and looked away from him. "Oh, well…"

"Don't worry," he said, as he stopped beside her and casually leant against the counter. "I talk to Scarlett all the time. Tell her about my day, complain to her about the various people I have to deal with."

Ruth laughed. "Not quite the same as having a person to talk to but at least they don't go blabbing to their friends."

"True." Harry smiled at her. "You didn't answer my question," he added, softly.

"W-which question?"

"Do you need any help with dinner?"

"No. It's all under control. More or less. It's spaghetti Bolognese," she continued, nervously. "That's OK, isn't it?"

"Sounds perfect, Ruth."

"There is one thing you could do for me." She turned around and pointed at the animals. "Can you give that lot their dinner?"

Harry had just set Scarlett's bowl of food down on the floor when he heard a clatter and Ruth swearing.

"What have you done?" he asked, as she continued to mutter to herself.

"Spilt Bolognese sauce over my top," she explained, holding the thin material away from her body and attempting to sponge off an orangey-red stain.

"Oh," Harry remarked, unable to take his eyes of the smooth skin of her stomach, now exposed to him as she tugged at the small t-shirt she was wearing.

"Bugger, that's cold!" she said, loudly, water splashing her as she rinsed out the cloth she was using to clean her top.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment and tried to think of something constructive to say to block out the lustful thoughts filling his mind. "Take it off," he commanded.

"S-sorry?" Ruth stammered, surprised by the tone of his voice.

"I mean you should probably take it off and soak it in some cold water or something."

"Right," she responded, vaguely disappointed. "I'll er, I'll go and get changed."

---

"Do a little dance, make a little love, get down…tonight…" Harry trailed off, realising Ruth was standing in the doorway, watching him.

"Interesting choice of song," she remarked, trying to sound casual. "Suggestive, even."

Harry tilted his head slightly, his eyes remaining focussed on her. "Can't blame a boy for trying." He spoke quietly but there was a hint of challenge in his voice.

Ruth shuffled slowly across the kitchen towards him. "Boy?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "I wouldn't describe you as a boy, Harry." She stopped just in front of him. "Definitely a man, in my opinion." She placed her hands on his chest. "An incredibly sexy man."

She grasped the open neck of his shirt and tugged on the material, pulling his head down and pressing her lips against his. It was a far more intense kiss than the one they had shared a few days ago.

Harry pulled her closer to him and lifted her up. He turned them around, and gently set her down on the counter. "That's better," he murmured, "you can keep the weight of your ankle while you kiss me."

Whatever reply she was going to make was lost as his mouth covered hers and they lost themselves in each other.

A noise from the stove finally got Ruth's attention. "Spaghetti," she mumbled, trying to free herself from Harry's embrace.

"Hmm?"

"The spaghetti," she repeated. "It's boiling over."

"Is that another euphemism?"

"No!" She slapped his shoulder. "Dinner's going to be ruined at this rate."

"So?" he challenged, eyes full of desire.

She pouted at him. "I thought you were hungry."

"I am, and not just for your Bolognese."

The look on her face in response to his comment made him laugh. "Come on then." He gave her thigh a playful squeeze. "Let's see if we can salvage dinner and then you can tell me just how sexy you think I am."

**

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More soon…ish…**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry it's been a while – RL has been hectic.**

**A/N – Still fluff but slightly more grown up fluff, so look away now if you're easily offended…**

**For Kate and Em xx  
**

* * *

After dinner, they moved back out onto the patio to enjoy the evening sunshine.

"I shouldn't," Harry said, as Ruth went to pour the last of the wine into his glass. "Not as I'm driving. In fact, I should probably get a taxi home."

"Oh…you could always…er, it doesn't matter."

"I could what, Ruth?"

She shifted about in her seat, avoiding his gaze. "Nothing," she muttered.

"Please tell me."

She took a deep breath. "You could stay the night," she suggested, so quietly Harry almost didn't hear her.

"Would you like me to stay?"

"Do you want to?"

"Ruth," he sighed, exasperation evident in his voice. "Will you answer the question? Do you want me to stay?"

There was a long silence as she contemplated her reply. "Yes," she finally whispered. "I do."

"Sure?" he asked, taking hold of her hand.

She nodded.

"Then I'll stay." He smiled. "Because I want to as well."

They chatted for a while, content in each other's company but both secretly nervous about what the rest of the night would bring. As dusk started to fall, there was a distant rumble of thunder.

"I should take the dog out for a walk before the rain starts," Harry remarked. "I won't be long," he reassured, seeing the apprehensive look on Ruth's face.

---

Ruth was rummaging through her chest of drawers, trying to decide whether she should opt for nightwear or sexy underwear when she heard the front door open.

"I'm upstairs," she called out.

"OK," Harry replied, unclipping Scarlett's lead.

After settling the dog into her temporary bed in the kitchen, he wandered back into the hall and stood at the foot of the stairs, unsure as to what to do next.

"Do you need me to do anything?" he asked, loudly, when he heard footsteps on the landing.

Ruth peered over the banister. "Er, can you just lock the front door? Then you can…um…" She fell silent, desperately trying to think of a way of completing the sentence that didn't involve using the word 'bed'. "Then you can come upstairs," she finally continued, realising too late that _that _didn't sound any better.

Having double-checked that all the doors and windows were closed and locked, Harry headed up the stairs. His heart was racing and Ruth's sudden appearance from the bathroom just as he reached the landing did nothing to slow it. She looked visibly startled when she saw him and clutched at the front of her dressing gown, pulling the edges together.

"H-Harry," she spluttered.

"You weren't expecting anyone else were you?" he quipped, attempting to lighten the mood.

"No, of course not!" she retorted and then blushed. "Sorry." She shuffled about, trying to gather her thoughts. "I've left a toothbrush out for you. The green one. It's new."

"Thanks."

They stood looking at one another for a few more moments.

"I'm…my room," Ruth eventually muttered, waving a hand vaguely towards a door at the end of the landing. "When you're ready."

"Right," he replied, deciding that saying as little as possible was the best response.

---

Ruth felt incredibly nervous as she waited for Harry to finish in the bathroom and get into bed. To begin with, she'd been lying down, with the sheet primly pulled up to her neck. After wriggling about, trying to get comfortable, she decided she would look more alluring sitting up, showing off the camisole top she opted to wear. She smoothed the material down, aware the cut of the garment drew attention to her breasts. She was still trying to gauge the right amount of cleavage to show when Harry appeared in the doorway.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, watching her fidgeting about. "I can sleep in the spare room if you'd prefer."

"No, it's fine." She gave him a hesitant smile. "Anyway, the spare bed's not made up and the room is a bit of a tip," she continued.

He walked round to the other side of the bed and stopped. "I wasn't sure if…" he gestured towards his boxer shorts, which he had kept on.

It took her moment for her to understand what he was trying to say. "Oh, right. Well, it's up to you."

"I'll keep them on for the moment then. I don't want to frighten you."

She gulped audibly and looked alarmed.

"It was a joke, Ruth," he stopped, half in and half out of the bed. "Admittedly not a very good one, but it _was_ a joke."

"Right, yes, of course." She cursed, inwardly, feeling ridiculous.

He settled himself in the bed beside her and watched her as her fingers plucked anxiously at the hem of the sheet.

"Sorry," she smiled shyly at him. "I feel like a virgin."

"So do I. Trouble is, you can never find one when you want one."

She laughed, despite her nervousness. "Harry!"

"My jokes don't get any better do they?"

"No they don't."

He leant towards her and gently stroked a finger along her cheek. "I think I need a bit more practice."

"Possibly," Ruth murmured, distractedly. "Is there anything else you need to practice?"

He looked thoughtful for a moment before replying. "You tell me," he said, before engaging her in a long, sensuous kiss.

"You haven't answered my question," he teased, his bottom lip brushing softly against Ruth's.

"Hmm?" she responded, her mind clearly not on the conversation.

"What do you think of my technique?"

"Mmm, can't say yet…need to do…more research," she mumbled, pressing her lips to his and kissing him as if her life depended on it.

Ruth's hands had wandered down Harry's back and her fingers dipped tentatively under the waistband of his boxers, provoking a noticeable response.

"Ruth!" he gasped.

"Is something wrong?" she questioned, anxiously.

"No, no. It's very _right_, trust me. But there is a conversation we need to have first." He pulled away from her and sat up. "An important conversation," he added, taking hold of her hands.

She was silent.

"You know, about…about protection."

"Protection?" She looked puzzled. "Sorry, I'm not sure what your security officer has to do with-"

"No, not that sort of protection." Harry felt more awkward than he ever had as a teenager and retreated to language more suited to meetings with the JIC. "I mean for our current situation." He paused again, taking a deep breath before finally blurting out "contraception."

"Oh, I see. Why didn't you just say that in the first place?"

"Well I…I didn't quite know how to phrase it." He was taken aback by her unflustered reply. "And I didn't want to be presumptuous and just assume you were on the pill."

Ruth smiled at him. "That's very sweet of you, Harry. I'm not on the pill." She shrugged. "I was for a while but, well, there didn't seem much point."

Her gaze moved from his face as she reclaimed her hands and started to nervously fiddle with the bedclothes again.

"It's OK, Ruth," he reassured "We don't have to…well…you know. We can just have a cuddle."

"Um, actually…" She turned away from him and leant over towards the bedside cabinet and began to rummage about in one of the drawers. "I do have something for this situation."

When she turned to face him again she was clutching a purple, cellophane wrapped box in her hand. "Here," she said, holding the item out to him.

He took it from her and looked it over. "Bloody Hell, Ruth!" he exclaimed. "Have you seen how many are in here? I'm fifty-five not twenty-five. I hope you weren't expecting to get through the whole pack in one night."

"I, er, well…" Her voice faded away as she attempted to work out whether she'd done something wrong. "Are you angry?" she ventured, after a few moments.

"No, no. Of course not. Just a bit…surprised," Harry soothed. "I shouldn't be though, given your excellent organisational skills," he added, winking at her.

"Don't be cheeky," she chastised, trying hard not to smile. "You should be grateful. It was a nightmare buying them. I must have been in every chemist in SW1."

"Got a bit flustered, did you?" Harry teased, earning himself a slap on the arm.

"Shut up. At least I thought to get them."

"So you've been planning on seducing me for some time then?" he retorted, daring her to deny it.

Ruth took the box from him and peeled off the clear wrapping. "A little less conversation and a little more action," she said, tipping the contents out onto the bed.

"I hope you don't intend to quote Elvis lyrics all night, Ruth."

"Right," she continued, ignoring his comment and studying the cardboard packet. "The different colours are for different types." She picked up one of the brightly wrapped condoms. "These make you er, tingle." She swapped it for a different coloured one. "These are ribbed for increased stim-" She blushed and dropped it hastily. "And these make you…oh…"

"What do those ones do?" Harry twisted his head, trying to read the information on the packet.

"They…um…well, they make you…last longer…"

She looked worried, certain he'd think she thought he needed some assistance to perform.

Seemingly unconcerned, Harry kissed her. "Hmm, might be worth trying those first then."

"Oh, do you think-"

"Unless of course any of them are coated with liquid Viagra," he continued, conversationally.

"That was a joke, wasn't it?" she asked, uncertainly.

"Yes Ruth. I don't need Viagra – not when you're around."

Despite the humorous tone of his comment, there was a definite glint in Harry's eye.

"I think we'll use one of these," he murmured, gently taking the small coloured packet from Ruth's fingers.

---

Harry swore, softly. "Sorry Ruth, I'm making a complete hash of this."

"It's OK." She'd seen his hands trembling as he fumbled with the condom and realised that, despite his jokes and teasing, he was clearly as nervous as she was. "Let me help," she said softly.

His fingers stilled as her hands moved towards him and his breath hitched as she carefully completed the task he'd started.

"I love you," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him. "I don't just want you for your body, as lovely as it is."

He laughed and pulled her tightly against him. "Glad to hear it," he said, "and I love you," he added, before pressing his lips against hers.

**

* * *

One more chapter to go, I think…**


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